Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2) (7 page)

It’s a small, golden pin with my name etched across it. Running my fingers over the grooved letters, I can’t help but think of my mom and dad, and how proud they would have been. How surprised each of them would have been with knowing how far I’ve come in so little time.

But more so, that I’m not a Defect.

My heart seizes up, and a storm of suppressed thoughts and feelings brew within me. I have to squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists against my stomach just to keep from exploding from the inside out. The guilt, fear, and pain are overwhelming.

I feel my walls of denial cracking in half, crumbling down around me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. There’s nowhere left to hide from the truth.

If I had been named a Defect, then we wouldn’t be in this predicament. Katie… Jaxen… my friends… everyone would be safe from harm. From Bael’s wrath. And maybe my parents would be here. I tug at my hair, and then bury my face in my hands as an onslaught of tears surface.

I still don’t have any answers to what happened to them, and it’s eating me up inside. Ripping me clean in half. I don’t deserve this room… this… this life. I barely got away from Bael and managed to get the Dagger before he attempted to drag me down into the Underground.

If it wasn’t for Weldon…

Stop it
, I tell myself, but it sounds a lot like Katie’s voice.

It takes much force to inhale. To allow myself to breathe again. To push away the demons that poor buckets of liquid fire into my tear ducts. If only I could talk to Katie. She’d know what to say. She’d have the right words that would make sense of everything and settle my doubt. But she’s back in the Academy, and I can’t speak to her from here. Only the prestigious have that privilege.

I know she’d tell me to suck it up. That this is my chance to make things right. Being in this city… being trained as an Elite… this is my way to finding my parents, even with having to do whatever it is Clara and the rest of the High Priesthood wants me to do. Like Jaxen said, we have to make it work.

I stand up, tuck away each and every emotion, and pull off the clothing I’ll need for tonight. Behind the rack is a door that leads to a small bathroom, so I take a quick shower. It’s been days since I’ve had one, and the thought of hot water right now sounds like heaven.

After my shower, it takes me a minute to figure out how to put my uniform on. It’s still as dark and as black as the night, but the material is different from what was offered at the Academy. It’s stronger. The bodysuit portion is made from some type of flexible material. Somewhat like Lycra, but thicker. The moment the material slides over my thighs, I feel it adjusting to my body. Giving where it needs to give, and tightening where it needs to tighten.

There’s a zipper in the back from the waist up, so I zip it up halfway, and then use the string attached to the zipper to pull it the rest of the way up to my neck. When I stand back in front of the mirror, I don’t even recognize myself. The curves and the length are so different wrapped in matte black material. So womanly. Fierce.

I grab my jacket and slide my arms through the material. It’s close fitting, and the zipper runs from the bottom left to the top right of my shoulder. Over my heart, there’s a spot for my name tag, so I pin it, slide my shoes on, and step back. With my hair gathered in a tight ponytail and fully dressed as an Elite, I think maybe I could take on the world, perhaps even stop Bael and find my parents. I feel so… so different. So much more official.

I look like the deluxe version of a Night Watchman, ordered right off the war preparation assembly line.

I jump when I hear a knock. The screen by the door shows Jaxen on the other side, dressed in his Elite uniform. I nearly lose the air from my lungs at the sight of him. The material hugs him in all the right places. His name tag glints under the fluorescent lighting. Gramm. I don’t know why, but just the name causes my heart to do somersaults. Makes me want to scribble it all over a notebook with hearts, arrows, and dates of all our firsts together.

He smoothes a hand through his still-wet hair, then looks from side to side before glancing back at my door. I could watch him all day… get lost in all that is him. He leans forward and knocks again.

I palm my forehead.
Idiot.

When I press the button, the door slides open. His eyes widen the moment they settle on me. He bites his bottom lip as his eyes drift over my chest, past my midsection, and down my thighs. I can almost feel his gaze caressing me, taking in every inch and memorizing them.

“Wow,” is all he says. He takes a step toward me, and it seems like he has to force his gaze back to mine.

“It’s so official, right?” I say with a forced laugh, trying to ignore the electric charge between us.

His energy is just so… so tempting. So alive. I want to dive into it. Swim in his essence.

“Yeah,” he says distantly, still taking me in. “Official. Sexy. Tempting.” He pulls me into his arms, pressing his lips against mine. I think my knees have forgotten how to work, and I’m grateful for the support of his strong arms. “Damn, you make it hard to be respectable,” he whispers against my ear, sending a wave of heat all the way to my core. “I could curse the man who made this suit. You’re going to turn heads, for sure.”

I drop my gaze, laughing a little. “I won’t be the only one turning heads.”

He looks down at himself, and then back up at me with a furrowed brow. “Who… me?”

I run a finger down the center of his abs. Bat my lashes up at him. “Yes, Jaxen Gramm. You.” I kiss the compliment onto his lips. It’s so easy to get lost in his kisses, to forget the real world and all its unfair expectations.

But it’s anything but easy when there’s always someone there to bring us back down from cloud nine.

Jezi clears her throat, and I think all the blood in my body has decided to congregate in my cheeks. “Seriously?” she asks. “Do you not know how to shut your damn door?”

Jaxen spins around. “Jezi, I—”

She holds her hand up, halting his words. “Save it. Excuses aren’t your forte.” Placing her hand on her hip, she glances off to the side, swishing her perfect dark brown hair, and then looks back at us. Her chin is raised when she says, “I uh-I only came to tell Faye the others are ready. And I kind of figured it’d be…” She swallows thickly. “Nice,” she drags out painfully, “to walk together. But I can see you both are busy so…”

“We’re not busy,” I rush out. Stepping around Jaxen, I ignore his questioning stare. “We can walk together. I-I’m sure Jaxen would like to catch up with Weldon anyhow. Right?” I ask over my shoulder.

“Yeah, of course,” he says without hesitation. He kisses the top of my head and then stops by Jezi.

She doesn’t look up at him, even though he’s looking down at her. I think they might be exchanging thoughts, however, it’s hard to tell from just observing them. It’s something I thankfully haven’t experienced with either of them, though supposedly our strange connection to one another should permit it. He lifts his hand, squeezes her shoulder, and then disappears down the hallway.

“So,” I say awkwardly, biting the inside of my lip, “what do you think of the uniform?”

Turning, she starts down the hallway to the elevator. Jaxen gives me a small smile when we pass by him, leaving him standing outside of Weldon’s door.

“It’s a uniform,” she says with a shrug. “What am I supposed to think?” She presses the button for the elevator.

“I don’t know,” I say back, not sure of how else to answer it.

When the door slides open, we get in, and then she presses the button for the ground level. I look off to the side, wondering why she even bothered. The air is so thick between us I can barely breathe. And what’s the point of faking it? She clearly hates me, and I don’t blame her. I couldn’t imagine having to suck it up and watch your affinity partner in the arms of another. Especially someone as reserved and closed off as Jaxen.

You’re fine. Everything is okay.
I pin my hands to my side and clear my gaze. Pretend I’m fine with this silence that picks away at my composure. Imagine I don’t notice her contempt for me. And a part of me starts to believe it, begins to harden a little. Shuts down completely.

What feels like a century passes before she clears her throat again. I look over at her, feeling every startled emotion string themselves across my eyes. “I-uh-I’m not good with small talk,” she says, avoiding my gaze. “I usually just say what’s on my mind and, sometimes, there’s not anything in there worth talking about.”

“I get that,” I say, turning to face her, trying not to sound too excited that she’s speaking again. “Totally.”

“And I’m also trying this new thing. The whole ‘If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all’ approach to life. Not that I don’t have anything nice to say about you. Or to you. Hell,” she says, palming her forehead. “I’m shutting up now.”

“You’re fine,” I say quickly, wearing a small smile. “I ramble too. Not that you’re rambling.” Nervousness tears away at my ability to think. A fact pops into my head and slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. “You know, I read once that people who get angry often, and over little things, are really subconsciously revealing a need to be loved and accepted by their peers. You have a big heart; you just need the others to see you for that.”

Her eyes scrunch. A frown mars her lips.

“Or… something… like… that,” I fumble out. “It’s my turn to shut up now.”

There’s a long moment of awkward silence, and then the bell dings. We exit the building and head out into the city, both purposefully not looking in each other’s direction. The sun is setting, dipping behind the buildings. Pinks, oranges, and a small hint of lavender contrast against the turquoise waters. A perfect photo for a wall in my room that’s no longer my room.

I’m still waiting for her to freak out as she takes us over a bridge, and then down a cobblestone path. She hasn’t said a word, and that makes me wonder.

I said the wrong thing. She hates me more now. God, I’m an idiot.

I slip on a robotic smile as passersby nod their heads in greeting, focusing on counting my steps and not the seconds between the last thing I said and Jezi’s silence. Noticing there are more Elites out now than there were this afternoon, I realize nighttime is the only time an Elite has the relief to really live.

“You can definitely tell a man designed these suits,” Jezi says as we pass a restaurant carrying smells of fresh fish and vegetables stewing. A small line waits outside the front of the two-story, rustic building. Quaint chatter carries on the breeze.

“Huh?” I ask, only having half heard her.

“The uniforms. It’s obvious a man designed them.” She opens her arms, showcasing her many curves that are on display for the public eye. I can’t help but notice the male heads that turn in her direction as she spins in a circle. The hungry smiles that curve their lips.

“Yeah,” I agree, picking up the pace. Curling into myself to keep from being noticed.

“We should find him and shoot him,” she says, and I can’t tell if she’s joking or not. “I almost feel naked.”

“Then maybe you should just strip off that uniform and eat dinner naked,” Weldon throws in from behind us. He lets out a short, boastful chuckle. “It’d be the same thing, right? And I sure as hell wouldn’t mind.”

I look over my shoulder to find Jaxen and Weldon a few steps behind us. Jaxen has his hands tucked in his jacket pockets. He smiles at me, and I can’t help but blush a little.

“Ugh, pig,” Jezi says, turning back around.

Weldon has to jump back to avoid the harsh swish of her dark hair from slapping him in the face. “Maybe. But I bet you I’m the best swine you’ve seen in a long time,” he says, poking at her with his words. His voice is light and airy. He’s enjoying every second of watching her unravel at the seams.

She rolls her eyes. Points straight ahead. “Thank the Goddess,” she says a moment later when Gavin and Cassie come in sight. They’re standing in front of a small taco stand that’s tucked discreetly between two large, brick buildings. Stringed lights hang, and small, round tables with umbrellas fill the alleyway.

“We ordered a round of tacos for everyone. On us,” Cassie says, “so I hope you’re hungry.”

“Hungry?” Jezi asks. “I’m famished. I’ve been dying for some real food.”

“What’s wrong? Meal replacement bars aren’t your thing?” Weldon asks, stepping up next to her.

She eyes him down. “They can take their bars and shove them up their asses,” she retorts. Reaching over the counter for one of the tacos, she shoves it in her mouth and bites down with a small moan. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth as she chews and says, “This girl loves food.”

We all laugh when her words come out jumbled from behind her taco.

“And I’m the pig?” Weldon asks, looking thoroughly disgusted. He snorts, and then takes his share from the vendor and finds a small table to sit down at.

Jaxen grabs ours and points to where Weldon sits. Gavin, Cassie, and Jezi take the table next to us. I know I should say something, start some form of pleasant conversation, but Jezi was right. The meal replacement bars sucked, and this food… it smells so amazing. Mouth-watering. My manners quietly slip out of the back door as I dig in and devour all three of my tacos before Jaxen can even finish his first one.